


Etta the Dwagon

by E_Salvatore



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen, Halloween, Purple dragon, Trick or Treating, baby talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1913589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Salvatore/pseuds/E_Salvatore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purple costumes, giggling toddlers, tons of candy – it's pretty much what everyone expects from a normal family like theirs. That's what they are now: a normal family. A Very Polivietta Halloween, complete with baby dragon Etta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etta the Dwagon

"'Livia!"

"In here, Peter!" She calls from her tiny office, anxiously standing up. Peter had just been to their nanny's to pick up Etta and talk to the young woman, who had requested an audience with both parents. Unfortunately, they're in the middle of a case and Olivia had been busy chasing down leads. She tries not to feel bad but this is exactly what that dark voice inside of her mind has always warned her of. _First it's a meeting with the nanny, then a ballet recital and next thing you know, it's her graduation_ … Reasonably, Olivia knows this doesn't make sense. Reasonably, she knows a meeting with the nanny isn't an actual, important part of her baby girl's life. Reasonably, she knows she would never let work take her away from her Etta.

But reason stands no chance against fear and feelings of inadequacy.

She brushes off these doubts, as she so often does, and moves forward to take Etta from Peter's arms.

"Mama!" The little girl squeals, fingers wrapping around her mother's neck. She settles her head into the crook of Olivia's neck and sighs contentedly. Olivia smiles, running one hand through Etta's bright curls.

"So what did Nancy want?" She asks Peter, who'd been leaning against the door with a smile on his face at the scene before him. Now, he stands up and crosses his arms.

"She wanted us to know that she's worried for Etta," He begins. Olivia's eyes widen, hurriedly checking the tiny girl in her arms to make sure she's okay.

"She's alright, Liv. Nancy was worried about something a bit more 'disturbing'," He marks the word with air quotes, prompting a raised eyebrow from his wife.

"Yeah, apparently normal two-year-olds don't go around babbling about Mommy having superpowers and Daddy glimmering and Grandpa's bedtime stories about different worlds. Also, cows are not suitable pets."

Peter delivers the last line with such seriousness that she can't help but laugh. Out of everything on that list, Gene is probably the most normal and acceptable part of their daughter's young life. She sobers up quickly as her mind wraps itself around this development.

"I take it that Walter's been reading her more than just nursery rhymes, then." She sighs. Etta squirms at the sound of her grandfather's name.

"Wally!" She giggles, yet to master Grandpa or Walter. Olivia pulls back to look her daughter in the eye.

"Grandpa Wally has been telling you lots of stories, hasn't he, baby girl?" Etta nods rapidly, her little ringlets bouncing as she does.

"Mommy special! Daddy special!" Little Etta's brows furrow in concentration, an exact mirror of her father's infamous 'hard-at-work' look. "Two Wally! One bad. Baaaaad Wally. Not my Wally." Her daughter recounts with as serious a face as she can manage. Peter steps forward with a chuckle.

"Baaaaad Wally," He echoes, pretending to furrow his brow. Olivia fights a smile. It's bad enough to have a filter-less scientist walking around with confidential information. A babbling toddler could turn into a political nightmare.

"Peter, what now?" She questions in a hushed tone as Etta goes back to resting against her shoulder. "We can't have her going around talking about my abilities and the other side."

"Don't forget my glimmer," Peter jokes before getting around to comforting her. "Don't worry, honey. Kids say the darndest things, right? Besides, she'll forget this soon enough. We'll just have to make sure Walter stops with his Fringe adventures." Olivia doesn't look too convinced.

"Here," He takes Etta from Olivia's arms, prompting the girl to observe her father with a curious stare. "Watch this." He tells Olivia.

"Hey, Etta. What's tomorrow?"

"Hal-ween!" His daughter shrieks in excitement, her mind comprehending candy and fun and a purple monstrosity.

"And what are you going to be, little princess?"

"Dwagon! Big, pohple dwagon!" Their daughter hasn't quite mastered 'r' in her speech. It's adorable. Etta smiles brightly, excited to be a big, _pohple_ dragon.

"Do you wanna go talk to Aunt Astrid about dragons?"

"Yesh! Yesh!" Etta squirms in his arms, anxious to tell Astrid all about her costume. Olivia watches the conversation with a smile tugging on her lips. Peter is so good with their little girl.

Soon they're lecturing Walter about appropriate bedtime material as Etta tells Astrid all about her costume in Etta-babble, yet another language Astrid has picked up.

For the rest of the day, it's all she can talk about.

Olivia can almost pretend it's just a normal day with her family. As long as she leaves out the part where Walter and Etta are planning a matching purple costume for Gene.

This is _their_ normal.

* * *

"Liv, you all set?"

Olivia descends the stairs looking terribly uncomfortable and decidedly un-Olivia like in her usual all-black outfit, knee-high (flat, of course) boots and a pointy witch's hat.

Peter catches her by surprise with a candid snap taken as she rounds the corner. She shoots him a half-hearted glare.

"Looks good, sweetheart." He grins teasingly, holding up both hands to ward off any animosity. "Isn't Mama the prettiest witch you've ever seen, Etta?" The little girl in question, wrapped up in what appears to be a bulky coat but was sold to them as a dragon costume, holds out her hands, a standard way of asking to be carried. Olivia picks her up, clutching her purple-with-green-spikes form against her own dark shape.

"Remind me again why you got away with nothing but hipster glasses and I'm the one dressed up as an old witch?"

"Hey, you know I'm rocking these," Peter jokes, gathering up everything they might need for the evening. "Besides," He leans over Olivia's shoulders to reach the keys placed on the sideboard she's resting against. "You make a beautiful witch, sweetheart."

Olivia softens up and takes advantage of their little moment to snatch the camera from Peter's hands. Setting Etta down to the ground, she sends her daughter scurrying off to Peter, who really is pulling off the sweater plus glasses combo.

They take turns posing for pictures for a few minutes, matching wide grins on three faces. And then they're off to demand sugar from strangers for their daughter.

* * *

Etta had spent the week leading up to this night repeating the same phrase over and over, just to make sure she had it right.

_Trick or treat_ , with r's in the right places. No more _twick or tweat_.

It's paying off. As they hit up the eighth or ninth house, Olivia bending down slightly to hold Etta's tiny hand in hers, she takes a peek into her daughter's bag of spoils. It's almost full already. It's a small bag, though. Peter had agreed that it was better this way – the deal was for them to come home once Etta's bag was full, and this way she would be happy _and_ in bed just a little later than usual.

Olivia holds Etta up to ring the doorbell before quickly setting her down. Her little purple dragon greets the elderly woman who answers the door with a very enthusiastic 'trick or treat' almost immediately.

"Why, hello there, little one. What's your name?" Mrs. Hendricks, whom Olivia recognizes as a kind neighbor from when they first moved in a while ago, asks, picking up a bowl of what appears to be tiny chocolates.

"Etta!" Her daughter nearly squeals, prompting the woman to look up and concentrate on the face hidden by the wide-brimmed hat.

"Olivia, is that you?" She wonders, squinting.

"Hi, Claire," Olivia smiles, picking up Etta when she reaches for her mother. "Happy Halloween."

Mrs. Hendricks chuckles in delight. "I almost didn't recognize you! And with your little one all wrapped up… what are you today, Etta? You look very much like Boo." She hazards a guess. Olivia realizes that her daughter does somewhat resemble one of her favorite characters from an animation called Monsters something. Monsters Inc.

"I'm a dwagon!" Etta declares proudly as the hood of her costume shifts lower, concealing half of her face, starting a round of laughter. Olivia quickly pushes it up.

"Well, you make a very good dragon, sweetie." Mrs. Hendricks compliments the child. "And your mommy here is a very pretty witch," She stage-whispers. Olivia ducks her head, cheeks flushed.

"I won't keep you pretty girls, then. Lots more houses to go. Happy Halloween, Etta, Olivia." She smiles, waving them off.

"Thank you!" Etta smiles, waving goodbye. Olivia echoes her daughter's words before heading back to Peter, who's been taking in the sight of streets overtaken by all sorts of monsters.

"That one took a while," He comments as they head down the street to the next house.

"Remember Claire Hendricks, the one who came over and helped us settle in when we got here?" Peter nods and hoists Etta up as they reach the next house, passing a trio of grade-school ballerinas. "Here we go, kiddo. Let's get some candy!"

Olivia hangs back and watches as Peter comically quickens his stride, no doubt carrying on a hasty discussion with Etta on how best to maximize their spoils. She laughs quietly, amused, before settling in to lean against a lamppost.

The sky is dark and there are monsters prowling the streets as children shriek and scream and harried grown-ups pass her with tired smiles and hurried movements, and for once it's not her problem, it's not the end of the world, it's not her responsibility.

For once, she's a part of all this.

In a good way.

A normal way.

* * *

"You've had quite a day, haven't you, baby girl?" Olivia smiles, tucking in her little girl. Etta nods silently, too tired to bother with words. Her little balled-up fists rub at her eyes. Olivia gently removes them before pressing a light kiss to her daughter's forehead and smoothing back her hair.

"Good night, Etta. Mama loves you so much, baby." Her little girl is already dozing off before she can finish her sentence. Peter moves closer and carries out his version of their routine, sweeping a light hand across their daughter's left cheek before pulling up her blanket and smoothing it down. He tells her he loves her a lot, calls her Henrietta and wishes her sweet dreams.

They stand in the near-darkness for a little longer, entranced by the gentle rise and fall of their sleeping daughter's chest, regular movement in peaceful slumber. Then they double-check the baby monitor, turn on Etta's night-light and gently shut the door behind them.

Olivia sighs lightly as they descend the stairs, Peter close behind her. He gathers her in his arms as they hit the last step.

"What's wrong, 'Livia? You've been a little off all day now." He observes, brows furrowed in concern. Olivia smiles tightly and shakes her head, the usual 'I'm fine, it's nothing' on her lips. She knows Peter won't accept it so she tells him the truth instead.

"Today was nice, Peter. Really nice. And normal." Her smile turns genuine. "And I'm not saying that we're weird, or that I don't like most of our days, but today, being out there, being just another parent with just another kid… it's nice to feel normal, you know?"

Peter smiles and holds her closer. "I know, Liv. I know." Later, he'll joke about the horror of being a normal family, and how utterly boring it'll be for them for now on, and that normalcy brings with it stereotypical behavior which will probably bring with it a rebellious child in ten years or so. But not now.

For now, he'll hold his wife and he'll think of his daughter sleeping peacefully in her room upstairs, and he'll spend his normal evening in his normal house, knowing the two people he loves the most are safe and sound.

For now, he'll breathe in the comforting, familiar scent of Olivia's hair and he'll play Etta's bright smiles and musical giggles in his mind, and he'll go to sleep tonight dreaming of his family, knowing that tomorrow will bring it with it another day with his loved ones.

For now, he'll feel Olivia's heart beat against his and he'll picture the soft rise and fall of his daughter's chest, and he'll live in this moment, in this utterly normal moment, knowing they're here and they're alive and they're his to love and cherish and hold and protect.

They're his family.

And that's what all families do.

Being normal has never felt this good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not happy with the last bit, but I never did get around to fixing it and I'm too lazy to do so now, so that can stay.
> 
> Also, I'm having way too much fun with AO3 tags.


End file.
